


When Moonlight Touches Us

by PM_Writes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Art, Developing Friendships, Engagement, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Fluff, Gargoyle AU, Georgian Period, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Keith's Wolf - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Out, Supernatural Elements, Young Love, gargoyle keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15879024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PM_Writes/pseuds/PM_Writes
Summary: Branches scratched his cheeks as he ran through the woods. Out of breath and covered in mud, Lance eventually crawled back under the fence onto the school grounds. He stopped at the large fountain in the plaza, leaning heavily on it. He splashed his face to wake himself up.It didn’t work. Keith was real.-Based on 214b's Gargoyle AU





	When Moonlight Touches Us

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy!
> 
> This work was inspired by [214b's Garyogle AU on tumblr!](http://214b.tumblr.com/post/177106738941/you-touch-me-like-an-angel-but-you-kiss-me-like-a) Please go check it out! 
> 
> I took one look at that pic and immediately got that wonderful writing itch. So I scratched and here we are.
> 
> Happy reading,  
> P and M

Lance shivered against the cool night air, his steps swift and as quiet as he could make them. His suspenders dug into his shoulders when he hunched over to rub some warmth back into his arms. He really regretted not thinking to bring his coat when he snuck out of his room, but he was an upset boy and his mother wasn’t here to keep him from making stupid decisions.

Pressing on and sniffing hard to keep his tears at bay, he finally reached the edge of the sprawling grounds where he’d found a hole under the iron fence that surrounded the property. The amount of landscaping this place could afford was ridiculous. When Lance looked back towards the dormitories, they were very nearly small. The Garrison Boarding School for Young Boys was prestigious, elevated, wealthy, and absolutely stifling.

He did his best to keep mud off his trousers as he slithered under the fence. Ahead lay a thicket of woods, so dense that he could just barely make his way by moonlight. Shivering, he debated turning back, but just the thought of Headmaster Iverson’s switch across his knuckles again had his blood boiling.

“I can’t stand him,” Lance muttered under his breath and marching on. “It’s not my fault he can’t teach the lesson right. I’d get it if he just slowed down enough to breath every five damn minutes.” He kicked a rock viciously. “Stupid-face. I’d like to hit his other eye.”

Lance’s mood only continued to sour the more he walked, not much minding his surroundings. The cold nipped at his nose and ears and he could see his breath fog before him. He sniffed back a tear, missing his family, feeling guilty for resenting the education his parents had sacrificed so much to give him, aching with his own inadequacy.

Lance stopped, leaning against the bark of an old oak tree. He stared up at the half moon through the forested canopy above him. The only sound to be heard was the wind whistling through the trees, leaves rustling in its wake. That was until something suddenly cracked behind him.

He jerked away, quickly backing up and nearly tripping over a root. “Hello?” There was nothing for a moment, and then another violent slamming sound. “Is someone there?” Against his better judgment, Lance crept forward and heard his own pulse thrumming in his ear.

He came to a small path that cut through to a somewhat cleared hillside. A manor loomed from atop it, slightly lopsided, slowly being devoured by the thick ropes of ivy. The wind whistled again, and Lance saw that the source of the noise was a crooked door being blown open and shut against the frame of the edifice.

“Whoa.” Lance stepped inside, hearing his footsteps echo.

The tattered remains of tapestries hung from some of the walls, casting gnarled shadows about. He nearly slipped a few times on the rickety steps and rotting boards, but at last, arrived at the top. He entered a bedroom, glancing around the dusty furniture. He pulled aside the shredded curtains and walked out onto the balcony beyond them. From the edge, he could see out over the tops of trees, the moonlight catching the woods and lighting them.

“Wow.”

The cold stopped bothering him as he explored his new hideaway from the world. It wasn’t a particularly large manor by any means, maybe some odd vacation home for an old reclusive aristocrat. It didn’t seem to matter now that it was falling apart.

Lance was poking through what looked like a parlor when a low growl seemed to shake the whole structure. He whirled, biting his lip as he tried to make out the shape of a creature in the dark. He tried to scurry behind a collapsed table, but his foot scuffed on some of the debris. The sound was hideously loud, and the growling became even louder. In the distance, nails scrapped against the floor and something ferocious was charging him.

A short scream escaping him, Lance started to run back through the door he came from when a massive weight threw itself against his back. He fell, pinned to the ground on his stomach. The growling was pressed against his spine and angling his head, he saw the head of a wolf baring its teeth at him.

“That’s enough,” a voice called. The wolf immediately stopped growling and stepped away from him, slinking into the dark where the voice had come from. Lance heard footsteps, but whoever his savior was kept tight to the shadows. “Are you alright?” It sounded like a boy, slightly raspy around the edges of his vowels, but nice.

Scrambling to his feet, Lance dusted himself off. His hands were scraped from the splintered wood floor, but he hardly noticed. “Yes. Thank you,” he said, trying to see the mystery person. “Is he, um, is he yours?”

“He’s his own. But we’re friends.”

Lance blinked. That made no sense to him, but he didn’t want to push it. “Oh. Alright then.” He swallowed, curiosity getting the better of him for the umpteenth time that night. “My name’s Lance. Who are you? I’ve never heard of anyone living out here.” Lance took a cautious step forward. A rushed flapping sound whizzed past him to another dark corner, dragging his gaze as he jerked to a halt.

“You should go now.”

“Come on. At least your name? I gave you mine.”

“It’s Keith,” he muttered. “Now go.”

Lance then realized that, in his adolescent emotional turmoil, he had not paid the slightest bit of attention to where he was walking. “Er. I’m actually kind of lost. Would you mind showing me back to the Garrison grounds?”

Keith said nothing for a moment, then a hushed curse came. “Here. He can show you the way back.” The wolf emerged again, and once in the light, Lance could finally appreciate how huge he was.

“Wait! Why can’t you?”

“I’m busy.”

Lance huffed and planted his hands on his hips. “In the middle of the night and in the middle of nowhere? I’m not stupid. And besides, he just pinned me a minute ago. I’m not comfortable walking around by myself when he could eat me.”

“He won’t eat you.”

“Why can’t you just take me?!”

“Because!” Keith snapped, clearly annoyed beyond reason. “If you won’t take him as an escort then you’ll have to find your own way back.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Lance finally stormed up to the edge of the light, hearing the Keith shuffle away and press to the wall at his proximity. Lance rolled his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Just be a good Samaritan and walk me there.”

“I was a good Samaritan when I stopped him from ripping you to shreds. Now back off.”

“Aha! So he would eat me!” Lance declared, snagging the boy by the forearm and yanking him into the patch of moonlight. Immediately, Keith ripped his arm away, and Lance was too busy gaping slack-jawed to stop him.

Keith wasn’t much of a boy at all. He stood before Lance, bare expect for a pair of pants shredded above the knees. He had large purple wings to match his lilac skin, protruding from his back. Large fluffy ears rested on his head, his lush black hair curled around them. And his eyes had an almost iridescent yellow glow to them, his purple irises staring down at Lance with growing fury.

“I told you to go!” he roared. “Leave me alone!”

Lance opened his mouth to say something back, but before he knew it the wolf had circled to the fearsome stranger’s side, growling at him again.  He didn’t think twice, just pivoted on his heel and ran, taking the mossy steps two at a time. His heart was pounding at he sprinted through the trees, doing his best to find his way back to the grounds.

Branches scratched his cheeks as he ran through the woods. He thought he heard the wolf growling everytime he made a wrong turn. Out of breath and covered in mud, Lance eventually crawled back under the fence onto the school grounds. He stopped at the large fountain in the plaza, leaning heavily on it. He splashed his face to wake himself up.

It didn’t work. Keith was real.

 

…

 

The chaos did not end when he returned to his room.

Lance, still shaken by his encounter, climbed up the ivy to the third-floor window where his shared room was. He stilled there, opening the window as quietly as he could manage with only one arm free, his ankles tiring from the strange twisted position he locked them in to hold himself up. He tumbled in rather gracelessly.

When he looked up from his position on the floor, his eyes flew open with shock, a large hand clapped over his mouth to keep him from yelling, and through it all Lance hardly cared because there was a _half-naked girl_ in his room.

A muffled cry escaped him in the ruckus, eyes popping wide and his hand flying up to point accusingly at her. The hand over his mouth tightened, and he recognized it.

“Lance, you have to calm down and promise not to make noise.”

Lance nodded in Hunk’s grasp. They’d been living together since first year. Puberty had just begun to set in and they were all gangly awkward limbs, hormonal mood swings, and homesickness. “What. Is going on?” Lance finally gasped, turning back to the main dilemma of the room.

Lit by a single candle, Pidge stood in their room. Lance expected embarrassment or maybe shame, but she only glared at him with her hip cocked out as if daring him to say something in poor taste. She had tugged one of their bedsheets around her in a makeshift dress.

“I’m a girl,” she said plainly.

“ _Yes._ I can see that.” Lance stood, dusting himself off, letting his arms turn the gesture into a wild flail of offense. “My question is why.”

She crossed her arms. “What do you mean _why_? I didn’t get to choose, Lance.”

“No – I mean –” he sputtered, collapsing to sit on his bunk. “You. Here. As a girl. Just explain. Now. Please. I am so tired.”

Pidge was Lance’s second roommate, joined their second year. Lance had always thought Pidge an odd boy. He was reclusive and seemed too cunning for his own good. He refused to change in front of him or Hunk, took his meals separately whenever he could, and couldn’t be bothered to do anything but study. A few months ago, Lance had wondered if Pidge suddenly seemed friendlier with Hunk, but he waved it off. Now it seemed like he should have paid more attention.

“Hunk found my bedsheets,” Pidge said, an embarrassed hue finally coloring her cheeks.

Lance blinked. “I don’t understand.”

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. “She – uh – is this okay to talk about?” Pidge nodded. “She got her first menstrual cycle and the blood got on her linens. She was trying to figure out how to wash them. I just put two and two together.”

“Oh.”

She shrugged, trying to pass it off. “I was nearly sixteen and it still hadn’t happened yet. I just sort of assumed it never would. Not like I’d care about being sterile.”

Lance paused. “So…” He let his eyes flit between her and Hunk. “The reason you were getting undressed in the middle of the night with Hunk is…?”

“NO!” they whisper-shouted in unison.

“No, no, no, no, no. I have to bind myself most of the day and you’re usually in here so I don’t get to, er, breathe as often as I need and Hunk already knows and he’s been really kind about everything so –”

“Hey, where were _you_ anyway?” Hunk cut in.

“Uh.” Lance flung himself to lay down on the bed. “I just needed air. Iverson was horrible today.”

Hunk didn’t quite look like he believed him, but let it pass. Pidge came to stand by Lance’s bed, her eyes narrow and serious. “Lance,” she began. “I need to know that you won’t tell anyone. _Ever._ ”

He looked at her for a moment, arms crossed under his head. She didn’t blink, and he wasn’t sure why she was here or what she needed or who she was trying to prove herself to. But he knew that look, had seen it just earlier that night.

_Please don’t do this to me._

If she ever got caught, he wouldn’t get out unscathed. He knew that.

“Alright,” he said.

 

…

 

A week passed. The air was steadily growing colder, and if the bruises on his knuckles were anything to go by, Lance couldn’t concentrate on anything. In the library with Pidge and Hunk, he stared out the window, watching frost slowly creep around its edges a little more each day.

He thought of Keith and his torn trousers. He seemed to have fur around his ears, but wouldn’t the rest of him get cold? Maybe he curled up with the wolf by a fire. Maybe he had a real home somewhere.

“ _Lance,_ ” Pidge’s voice broke his thoughts. “You did this one wrong.” She pointed to his equation, carelessly scrawled over his paper in smudged ink. “Here. Like this.”

Lance listened closely to her impatient corrections. When they gathered their belongings to leave, Lance paused for a moment. Pidge had never left the library with them before. And she’d never offered to help with math either.

 

…

 

He remembered his coat this time. Lance stopped quietly in front of the manor, tucking his chin beneath his scarf and clutching his bag. Sunset was nearly over. Lance had been sure to sneak out with enough light to find his way back to the abandoned manor and mark his path.

He climbed the steps and eased the creaking door open just as the last sinews of daylight slipped under the horizon through the trees. Once inside, he didn’t have to wait long in the dusty parlor before a low rumbling growl echoed through the halls.

Despite himself, he could feel his heart begin to stutter with a pinch of fear. “Um, hello? Again?” He pulled the bag out in front of him and tugged on the drawstring. “Keith? I, erm, I brought a peace offering,” he called out into the dark room. “I’m sorry for last week. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

A gush of wind swept over his shoulder, accompanied by a sharp flap of wings and a deliberate thud to his right. Keith didn’t bother hiding from him this time, stepping fully into the dim light for Lance to see. He tried not to react too much this time, but his strange features were hard to ignore.

“What do you want?”

Lance lifted the bag. “I came to give you this, like I said.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “No. That’s what you came here to _do_. What do you _want?_ Why do it at all?”

Huffing, Lance turned his nose up in the air. “Excuse you. I am a gentleman. And it’s not very gentlemanly to leave a poor wretch like yourself out here in the cold to freeze to death.”

“A poor wretch like me?” Keith repeated, zeroing in on Lance, swiftly stepping into his space until they were nearly nose to nose. “What do  _you_ know about –” But he stopped there, nose twitching once. He frowned, looking down into the bag Lance held between them like a shield. “Is that – is that bread?”

Swallowing, Lance reached down into it, pulling up a loaf he’d wrapped in cloth, stolen from the kitchens. “I didn’t know if you had food, so…” He shrugged, holding the bread out to Keith who stared at it in awe. “Take it.”

Keith’s eyes met his in an intense stare. “Why?” he asked. “I scared you.”

It was Lance’s turn to roll his eyes with false bravado. “Pfft. I was  _not_ scared. I thought _you_ were scared, so I left to let you calm down.” He puffed out his chest obnoxiously.

For a moment, Keith looked like he would call Lance out, but he relaxed instead. His hands came up to hold the bread, and Lance saw the short claws on the ends of his fingers, pale purple like the rest of him. “I can’t remember the last time I had bread,” Keith said quietly, letting his fingers press into the crust to crack a network of tiny ravines in its surface.

Keith sat down there on the floor. The wolf slinked out of the shadows in all its hulking glory to join him, licking happily at the small piece Keith broke off to share. After a moment, Lance sat across from them, digging through to show off the rest of his spoils to Keith: two blankets, a shirt he’d cut holes into to fit over the wings, and stockings. He watched Keith munch on the bread with delight. “I’ll be sure to bring more next time.”

 

…

 

“Why are you doing this anyway?” In all of the chaos that night and his distraction the week after, Lance realized he’d never asked Pidge the most important question. Here, in their room, with all three of them sprawled on the floor as they read seemed like as good a time as any to ask.

She and Hunk exchanged a glance. “Have you ever heard of Dr. Holt?” Hunk asked, lifting himself up on his elbows. Lance just blinked.

“He’s an astronomer,” Pidge answered. “And my father.”

“Okay?”

“I want to research alongside him. He and my older brother Matt both studied here when they were younger, so I wanted to come too.”

Lance crossed his ankles above his back, kicking them idly through the air while he lay on his text. “Does he know you’re doing this?”

She shrugged. “He wasn’t happy about it at first, but once he figured out how much of my time would be spent on sewing at a girl’s school, it didn’t take much to push him over.”

“Huh.” Lance pressed his cheek to the page he was supposed to have finished ages ago. “He must really trust you.”

Pidge only nodded.

Hunk stood. “I think we should have a picnic tomorrow, before the winter sets in. What do you think, Lance?”

 

…

 

When Lance arrived at the manor for the second time that week, his stockings were soaked through from the heavy snow. Keith was already waiting for him in the parlor, wings folded close to his back to preserve body heat. Fitting them through the cut slits in the shirt had been a challenge, but Lance eventually wrangled him into it.

“You should stop coming,” Keith said, stroking the wolf’s fur.

Lance shook off the snow from his coat and set down his lantern, casting light into the room. “And you should name him so I can stop calling him Not-Keith’s-Wolf. If you don’t I swear I will. I can’t take another month of this.”

“He’ll tell me his name when he’s ready.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Lance threw himself onto the old creaking armchair by Keith.

Keith shrugged. “I _only_ heard myself until you started bothering me.”

“Please. I’m a delight and you know it.”

“Hm.” Keith scooted forward to peer into Lance’s bag, ears perking with interest. “What did you bring this time, Mr. Delight?”

“Bread, jelly, and I even snagged some cheese this time.” They dug into the bag, laying the food out on a table that wobbled. Lance talked. Keith seemed content to listen until the oil of the lamp grew dangerously low and Lance had to return.

 

…

 

They tried to play fetch with the wolf. Lance threw another stick into the snowy darkness of the foliage every time he listed a potential name for him.

“Arnold.”

“No.”

“Gunther.”

“No.”

“Wolfy?”

“ _No._ ”

“Cosmo?”

“No! Why can’t you just leave his name to him?”

“Okay, let pretend you’re not crazy for three seconds. Even if he had a name picked out for himself, which he absolutely _doesn’t,_ how would he tell us?” Lance made a sweeping gesture towards the canine in question, who had rolled onto his back to absorb the coolness of the snowfall against his thick fur.

Keith didn’t even blink. “I would know.”

“How?!”

“I just would.”

“You’re full of it.”

 

…

 

Lance’s visits with Keith were fun, the parts of his week he came to look forward to the most. In class, during the day, he would gaze out the window towards the woods past the edge of the grounds were he knew Keith would be waiting that night. He would think about the next visit – what should he bring this time? More jellies and jams? Keith seemed to have a sweet tooth. Or should he find a way to smuggle one of the fine cloaks he’d seen near the faculty dorms? Keith would look good in one of those. He could press his wings to his back and drape it over himself easily. He could hide his ears under the hood, maybe walk with Lance closer to the school grounds in the daylight, so they could see each other more often.

A sharp sting cut through his hand then, making him hiss as his knuckles throbbed. That was the fifth time in three days. His teacher loomed over him, and he felt the eyes of the whole class against his skin, prickling.

“Young man, do you even _want_ to be here?”

 _I’m not so sure anymore,_ he thought for the first time. But he dutifully nodded his head at the instructor. “Yes, Sir.”

“It hardly seems like it. Your family will be disappointed after all they’ve done to get you this far.” Lance opened his mouth to protest but another hard smack railed over his hand, the switch coming down on him like lightning. He heard hushed snickers. “Do not interrupt me. Pay attention. You will write five hundred lines after class.”

Lance did his best not to slink into his chair. “Yes, Sir,” he said.

 

…

 

His hands still sore from the switch and aching from the scores of lines he had to write, Lance stole quickly through the thicket. The rugged path he’d trailblazed for himself to the old manor was so familiar he didn’t really need to look. It was still day. He skipped dinner to sneak out again, messier than he usually did. He was sure Hunk and Pidge had begun to catch on but he hardly cared.

He just wanted to forget school for a while and retreat into this tiny oasis he’d discovered. He wanted to talk to Keith and play with the wolf.

Striding up to it, Lance realized that he’d never seen his secret place in clear light before. It was tinged pink with the oncoming sunset. The structure seemed much larger now, two white pillars, cracked in some places and creeping with ivy, stretched two stories from the patio to the roof. The door hung ajar as it always did, but Lance had never noticed the intricate designs carved into its grains before.

Even the inside seemed bigger, echoed further. Looking down, he could see the small patchy remnants of a red carpet. There were old paintings tipped against the walls, covered in canvas. A dusty crystalline chandelier hung above, scattering dappled light across the room. Lance came to the parlor, where he could always expect Keith and his companion, but it was empty.

He tried not to feel too disappointed. It wasn’t their normal time, of course he wouldn’t be there.

But then where was he? What did he do all day, out here and alone? Lance still hadn’t asked about Keith’s inhuman features or his past. Every time he was about to try, Keith seemed to sense it and shut down the conversation. Turning around, Lance saw the wolf come in, walking calmly towards him. “Hey, boy,” he said, his breath fogging the air. “Where’s Keith?”

The wolf turned and headed upstairs, Lance following close behind. They came to the first bedroom with the balcony. The room was empty as well, but the door to the balcony was open, wind lifting the curtains and making them billow. In a split second, under the flap of fabric, Lance saw a stone figure he knew hadn’t been there before. He walked through it, feeling uneasy.

There, perched on the railing, was a stone likeness of Keith so detailed Lance could hardly believe it. He was crouched, wings spread, facing the bedroom, his back to the east where the sun would rise between the trees. Lance gaped, one of his still-aching hands lifting to trace the line of this stone-Keith’s jaw. He was dumbstruck by the accuracy.

Behind him, the wolf approached and came to curl up beneath the stone Keith’s feet. He whined softly, and that was when Lance began to understand.

“Hey, Wolfy,” he started, voice shaking, eyes never leaving the stone’s. “Where’s Keith?” Another whine. Lance stepped back, his back hitting the door. “Oh god.”

The sun descended, casting the manor into shadow. Lance didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at Keith, what he hoped _wasn’t_ Keith. But quickly it became dark, and the moment that the sun’s rays vanished from the forest to give way to the moon, small fissures began to spread across Keith’s body.

Lance gasped, reaching out, trying to hold the stone of Keith’s face together, frantically pressing his palms to those cold cheeks. The fissures spread into cracks. “No, no, no,” Lance muttered under his breath. Suddenly, Keith jerked, a low growl billowing from somewhere deep in his chest. The stone fragments fell away like a second skin, pieces of it in Lance’s hands.

Keith opened his eyes and froze. Lance still held his cheeks, face stricken and confused, the last pieces of stone falling from his grasp to clink harmlessly on the ground. “Lance,” Keith breathed, stepping off the railing.

“What – what was that?” Lance demanded, stressed lines under his eyes. “Are you hurt? What happened to you? How did this –”

“Lance,” Keith repeated, calmer this time, his expression tender. His own clawed hands came up to hold Lance’s and bring them down towards his chest. “I’m alright. I promise. That happens every day.” Some of the tension slipped from Lance’s shoulders, but questions still burned in his throat. He knew Keith could see them.

Lance swallowed. “Keith,” he began. “I need to know what this is. What you are. I can’t just not ask anymore.”

“I know.” Keith’s gaze turned downcast, but just as he was about to speak, he caught the slight bruises and red marks on Lance’s hands. He lifted them even as Lance tried to pull away. “Who did this?” he demanded, his voice quiet and deadly.

“It’s nothing.”

“Lance.” Keith let his thumbs stroke over Lance’s long brown fingers. “Please. I’ll tell you about me.”

Nodding, Lance led them backward into the bedroom, guiding them to sit on the groaning bed. A gust of wind blew in and Lance shivered. Keith’s wing came up to shield them, pulling them closer into a small and private cocoon. Keith still hadn’t let go of his hands.

Their breaths came quietly as they stared at each other for a moment. Up close like this, Lance could nearly feel how compact Keith actually was. His wings made him look bigger, but he couldn’t be any taller than Lance, shoulders not quite as wide, even though his arms were lined with lean corded muscle.

“I’ll go first,” Keith relented. “I’m a gargoyle. I turn to stone during the day, like you saw, and awake at night.”

“How–?”

Keith shook his head. “I was human, once. I remember a castle. I helped protect it. There was an attack, one of the neighboring territories wanted our lands and to take the king and his daughter prisoner. I remember fighting and fire, arrows sailing over me in the courtyard after they’d broken past the gates. They had a witch with them – a real one. She killed ten guards in an instant. I ran back to find King Alfor and Princess Allura so that I could help them escape.

“We made it to the underground tunnels, but the witch was waiting for us. She cast a spell and I jumped out to take the hit. It transformed me into this. And the battle had taken up the whole night, so I immediately began to turn to stone. She said that I would remain like that forever underground. I can only wake up if moonlight touches me.”

Lance was rapt with attention, leaning in and hanging on every word. He gripped Keith’s hands tighter. “I thought the legend of Princess Allura was just an old story. Wait. How old are you?”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if she and her father made it out alive. From what I’ve been able to piece together, I did stay trapped in those tunnels for a long time. I’m guessing someone dug me out, and that they thought I was an art piece or something. I’d actually only been awake for about a year when you found me. I was covered by a drop cloth in here, but the wolf pulled it off me. He was the first thing I saw.”

“I can barely believe it.”

“I promise that’s the truth.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You must have felt lonely.”

Keith stared at him a moment in small awe, then offered a smile. He let his fingers stroke on the underside of Lance’s palms. He lifted Lance’s hands once more, pressing his mouth softly to them. “Not anymore,” he whispered. Lance’s cheeks were burning by the time Keith pulled away slightly, wing still outstretched against the cold. “Now will you tell me what happened?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Lance averted his gaze. It was embarrassing now, after hearing all that Keith had suffered to complain about a strict teacher. It was easier to watch the wall. “It’s really not a big deal. I’m being a baby about it, honestly.”

“Tell me anyway. If it bothers you, it isn’t a small thing.”

So, Lance began to talk. Speaking to Keith, he was finally able to name his worries, his doubts. He let himself wonder aloud for the first time if this was actually the life he wanted, what it would mean for his family if it wasn’t. He felt better by the end, Keith’s clawed hands soothing his hurts.

 

…

 

He felt even more distracted after that, but hid it better from his teachers. Pidge and Hunk helped him finish his work, and the switch came down on him less and less often. Lance couldn’t stop thinking of Keith. He wondered what he would do when he finally had to leave school, if he could ask Keith to follow him somewhere, if there was any way for them to exchange letters.

He snuck out more frequently. His visits, which before only happened two or three times a week, were now almost nightly. He napped whenever he could during the day to make up for lost sleep. Lance saw the concerned looks Pidge and Hunk shared every time he climbed out the window after curfew, but they never stopped him.

 

…

 

“Can you really fly with those?” Lance asked one night. It was getting late, nearly time for Lance to begin his long walk back.

“Sort of. I mostly glide on the wind when I go out.”

“Could you show me?”

Keith looked at him a minute. “You trust me?”

Lance blinked. “What? Of course.”

Keith led them up to the balcony, but then began climbing up onto the roof. “Follow me.” Lance did, somewhat awkwardly, finding the handholds that Keith seemed to have dug into the structure. When they reached the top by the chimney, Keith grabbed Lance by the waist. “Hold on tight. Try not to choke me.”

Before Lance could protest, Keith threw them off the roof, careening down to the overgrown gardens in the back of the manor. Lance screamed, but Keith’s wings unfurled and caught them in the air, lifting them quickly above the trees in an easy glide. The wind whistled in Lance’s ear as he caught up with the sensation, clinging to Keith.

They were flying. Actually flying, up there, in the sky, in the moonlight. Keith’s hair danced in the breeze and Lance couldn’t help but laugh as he clutched tighter.

“What?” Keith demanded.

“It’s just, this is incredible, and _we’re flying,_ and all I can think about is that I don’t think I’ve ever seen your forehead before.” He kept laughing, watching Keith’s lips quirk into a smile, watching the trees pass below them.

Eventually, he saw the shape of the Garrison grounds come into view. “Which one is yours?” Keith asked. Lance pointed to the dorm on the west side of the lawn, and Keith angled them until they landed gently on the roof. “Can you get down from here?”

Lance nodded, letting his hands linger on Keith’s shoulders as they slid away. “We have to do that again.”

Keith smiled, nodded, and took off again, vanishing into the tree line.

 

...

 

It was the coldest night of the year so far. Lance entered the parlor, teeth chattering and his nose red. Keith quickly led him in, where he’d just finished setting up the fireplace. They sat on the floor in front of it, Keith’s wings wrapping around them and pulling them close together. The wolf dozed at their feet.

Keith was oddly quiet, not in his usual way. Normally, he was content to let Lance speak and just listen, responding with shorter sentences and small questions. Now it looked like he had clamped down on something eager to jump out of his throat, like he wanted to say something. Instead, he drew himself closer to Lance and merely asked about his day.

Usually, Lance would tell a story about Pidge or Hunk, some silly thing he saw one of the boys do out in the yard, the latest gossip. He couldn’t think of any of it now, staring into the fire and feeling Keith’s warmth press against his side. “We, um, we learned a bit about the stars today,” he said.

“Like constellations?”

“Mmhm.” He swallowed. “There’s Polaris, the north star. And Ursa Major and Orion.” He began aimlessly listing the constellations, voice a quiet murmur against the crackling flames. When he had nothing more to say, he turned to look at Keith.

He was crowded close, watching Lance, his chest rising steadily as he breathed. The light of the fire-tinged his lavender skin nearly pink. He stared at Lance with a single-minded intensity that left him feeling rubbed raw, only a small span of inches between them.

Lance understood, then, the thing that had been trapped in Keith’s throat all night.

He leaned in, slow. His lips coaxed Keith’s mouth open, just enough to draw the thing in his throat out, to share it between them. Lance’s chest burned. He didn’t know what he was doing, but it felt soft and safe and so he pushed further. Keith’s hand came to rest at the nape of his neck, pulling him in, angling them better as Lance’s arms came around his waist. Keith’s wings pressed them even closer, drawing so tight that the light from the fire barely slipped in.

They parted, just barely, lips smacking quietly. “Lance,” Keith gasped, and drew him in again. It was like heaven.  

 

...

 

Lance’s hands nearly shook as he set the letter down on his desk. He stood there, staring at it, his jaw tight and eyes watering.

_My Dearest Son,_

_I am happy to tell you that you are now engaged. We have found a wonderful match from a distinguished and pleasant household. She is a sweet, playful, and intelligent girl named Plaxum, and I believe you two will get along splendidly. Her family’s fortunes will let you live comfortably and make a fine career for yourself._

_You shall be married after your graduation this spring. Keep studying and working hard, my dear. You’ve made us all so proud. You have a bright future ahead._

_Love,_

_Mother_

Lance clenched the back of his chair, trying to control his breathing. He felt cold and hot at the same time, sweat breaking out over his brow even as he shivered. He sat on his bed, folded in on himself. He felt Keith against him, the memory of their lips gliding and pressing to each other, their trembling touches, nervous but right.

He cried.

 

…

 

When Lance awoke, it was to unfamiliar sheets and a cold compress against his forehead. He groaned, head throbbing and throat tight. Letting his eyes slide to the side, he saw the long row of beds and knew he was in the infirmary.

“Lance.” The door opened and Hunk stepped inside, Pidge following close behind him. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty awful,” he rasped.

Pidge frowned down at him. “You have a fever. We came back to the room and we couldn’t wake you up.”

“Oh.”

Hunk bit his lip. “You can’t keep sneaking out like that. No wonder you’re sick – you spend the whole night out in the cold. You barely sleep anymore. We’re worried, Lance. Please say you’ll stop going. Pidge and I are here, you can talk to us if something bothers you.”

Lance shivered, the fever wracking through him and blurring his focus. He shook his head. “No,” he mumbled. “I have to see ‘im.”

“Who, Lance?”

“He’ll get lonely. He doesn’t say it, but I know. He gets scared. Doesn’t wanna be alone. I have to see ‘im.”

Lance closed his eyes, falling back into sleep with shallow breaths. Above his bed, Pidge and Hunk frowned.

 

…

 

Lance tried to leave the next day. And the next. And the next. The nurse wouldn’t let him and threatened to strap him to the bed if he so much as twitched again. His head was still woozy, but he had to see Keith before he got worried or thought that Lance had stopped coming because of their kiss. He needed to see him, talk to him, and kiss him again if he could. He needed to tell him about his mother’s letter, about everything, about how much Lance wanted to see him every day.

But he stayed in bed with his fever. He dreamt of wings and moonlight and stone and soft mouths and sweet caresses. He dreamt of the love he’d found out in the forest.

 

...

 

Pidge burst into the infirmary, barreling down towards him. Lance nearly shrieked, but it was the dead of night and the last thing he wanted was to wake the nurse. He finally felt well enough to get out of bed, but they still wouldn’t let him leave quarantine.

“Pidge?” he whispered as she yanked the bedsheets off him. There was a strange and wild look in her eye, her glasses catching the candlelight frantically. “Pidge what’s going on?”

“You come with me. Right now.” Her grip on his wrist was bone-shattering as she jerked him through the silent halls, his bare feet cold against the floors.

They came to the shared bedroom, the door shutting quietly behind them. There, standing between the narrow bunks was a winged figure he’d recognize anywhere. Keith stepped forward, clear relief on his face as he tugged Lance close.

“You’re alright,” he said against Lance collarbone. “I’m so relieved.” He pulled back, wings wrapped tightly around himself to fit in the small room. Lance suddenly felt Hunk and Pidge’s stunned stares. It seemed Keith did too, ducking his head. “I’m sorry. You didn’t come for a week straight and I just...I just got so worried. And then I came to your window, just to see if you were still here and okay, and they spotted me.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to see you, but…”

Keith shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. You were bedridden because you went out into the cold so much for me.” Lance took his hand carefully, threading their fingers together and holding it to his chest.

Hunk cleared his throat. Loudly.

“So. Not to interrupt. But we need to talk. Right now.” Hunk leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest and more serious than Lance had ever seen him. Pidge, too, was tense by her desk.

Lance pulled away from Keith to face his friends, nervously tugging on the long sleeves of his nightshirt. “I don’t really know where to start.”

Pidge huffed. “Let’s just lay out the facts, shall we? You’ve been sneaking out nearly every night for three – almost four – months now to visit an actual gargoyle in the woods. You’ve done this so often that it put enough strain on you to make you deathly ill.”

“I don’t know about _deathly_.”

“The nurse wasn’t sure if you’d last after the second night, Lance,” Hunk said quietly. “Please. We’re just worried about you.”

“It that true?” Lance turned, Keith’s hand on his arm tightening. He was looking at Hunk, brows furrowed. “He nearly died?”

Hunk hesitated, but nodded. “His fever was really high.”

Keith faced Lance then, retreating back towards the window. “They’re right. You need to stop coming.” He looked away, hand sliding onto the window sill as he prepared to jump out and vanish.

“Wait!” Lance grabbed Keith’s shirt – the shirt he gave him – and tugged. “I’ll just wear more layers. And I won’t come as often. And spring is just around the corner anyway–” Lance cut himself off. That was right. Spring was just around the corner. He would graduate soon, and then he'd be shipped off to marry. “Oh.” His gaze drifted back to his desk where the letter still sat, folded neatly by his stack of books.

“What’s wrong?” Hunk asked.

Lance’s fingers went limp, grip sliding off Keith’s shirt. His shoulders sagged and he felt hollow inside. He couldn’t bear to look at Keith. “My mother sent me a letter, just before I got sick.” He swallowed, felt his eyes welling up. “She says, um. She says I’m engaged.”

He couldn’t look at Keith. He couldn’t so much as lift his head.

Pidge glanced between them, trying to find out why the air had turned so sour. “Is that bad? You always said you wanted to get married.”

Lance kept staring at the floor. He didn’t say anything for a long moment until he heard Keith’s wings shift as he began to climb out the window. His throat felt tight, and not from illness. “I said I wanted to find love,” he answered softly. He finally looked at Keith, one leg bent on the pane, the other dangling outside.

“I should go,” he said.

“Keith.” Lance was pleading.

“I’ll come back, I just – I just need...” he looked away. “Don’t go out again until you’re well.” And then he was gone, winged silhouette vanishing into the night.

Lance stood there, staring out the window until long after he’d lost sight of Keith. He knew Pidge and Hunk were watching him, confused and concerned, but he didn’t even know how to begin.

He walked away from the window. “I, um, I’m tired now. I should get back to the infirmary.”

“Lance?”

Barefoot, he walked back until he found his bed. He felt a bit like he was floating away, like he couldn’t make himself stay on the ground, like he’d lost some essential weight of himself. He slept poorly.

 

…

 

Lance was free to go the next day. He dragged himself through classes, lackluster and sullen. He must have looked pathetic enough because even Iverson left him alone. There were dark bags under his eyes and he couldn’t understand a word of the lesson.

Class ended for the day, but he stayed in his seat while everyone else filtered out. Suddenly Pidge was standing next to him, book tucked neatly under her arm. “How about we go to the library? I can help you catch up on what you missed.” Lance nodded and followed her out.

They picked a secluded corner in the back, far enough where they could talk quietly. Pidge went to open her notes, but Lance stopped her with a hand on her arm. “It’s alright. I know you want to ask.”

She swallowed and frowned at her lap, but curiosity won out as it always did with her. “Could you just start from the beginning? How long has this been going on? Who is he?”

“I actually met him the night I found out about, well, this,” he said, gesturing to her lazily as he settled in to lean back against his chair. Every motion he made was droopy and lethargic, dragging through the air. He told her, voice low, about Keith and his wolf.

When he finished explaining how they’d met and kept meeting, Pidge blinked at him. Lance watched the gears in her head churn, adjusting her glasses. Finally, she spoke. “He must really trust you. To have kept all that a secret. I can’t imagine what would happen if the wrong people found out.”

Lance sighed. “Mm.”

Pidge scooted her chair closer. “Can I ask you something? Well, two somethings, really.”

“I suppose.”

“Why didn’t you react? About Hunk and me knowing? You haven’t even asked us not to tell yet.”

Lance tilted his head, remembering Pidge wrapped in the bedsheet with a wild look in her eye. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that they might betray Keith’s identity and location. He shrugged. “We’re friends. I knew you wouldn’t do that to me.” She stayed quiet for another long moment, lost in thought. “What was the second thing?” Lance interrupted.

“Oh.” She sat up straighter. “Are you in love with him?”

Lance nearly choked on his own spit. “How did you–?”

She chuckled, scratching her cheek. “Well, he was _really_ worried about you that night. Like, terrifying. I don’t actually know how Hunk got him to calm down. And then you just seemed so close while you were talking, and um. Well. You’re really sad about your engagement, and I don’t think it would bother you all that much if there wasn’t something going on.”

Lance wanted to be embarrassed and deny everything. Instead, he couldn’t help but snicker a little ruefully, burying his face in his hands. “You’re too smart.”

She leaned back in her chair. “You know, you and Hunk are the first people outside my family to ever say that to me. Knowing what I am and all.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. Maybe you’re just obvious.”

“I guess.”

“...What are you going to do?”

Lance drew a shaky breath, suddenly feeling his eyes threatening to well up all over again. He let his eyes bore into the grains of the wood table.

“I don’t know.”

 

…

 

A week went by. Lance kept searching the skies at night, but they remained empty and lonely. After his talk with Pidge, he tried to stay focused on school. He spent long hours in the library with them, trying to laugh and enjoy his days. He got through them, but he would still lie awake at night, wondering when Keith would come back.

He still hadn’t answered his mother’s letter. He knew he would have to soon.

He thought about marching back out into the woods, but he was too scared to walk further than the frozen fountain. Winter would end soon. Spring would roll by. He’d graduate. He’d get married.

He’d leave Keith behind.

Finally, on the eighth night, Lance was walking near the withered gardens under a full moon. His cloak fluttered at his ankles with each step, and a shadow passed overhead. His head jerked up, twisting his neck to see. He heard wings beating, and saw Keith land delicately on a stone bench in front of him.

Lance wanted to rush towards him, but stayed his feet. His stomach tied itself up in knots, not knowing if he would be welcome near Keith again. Lance called his name, and Keith stepped onto the frostbitten ground.

“Um. Hello, Lance,” he said.

“Hi.”

Silently, Lance approached, eyes sliding from Keith to the bench in an unspoken question. Keith nodded, and they both sat, a patch of snow-covered and deadened roses in front of them.

Lance waited until Keith spoke.

“Are you going to marry her?”

His voice was soft, but it still managed to cut through the quiet air. Lance gave him an honest answer. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “My family – I love them. We aren’t rich, but they pushed to get me into this school anyway. If I marry this girl, she has enough money for them to live well for the rest of their lives.”

Keith’s hands flexed. “Do you want to?”

Lance shook his head. “I know she must be nice for my mother to have picked her, but I think about my whole life with a girl I’ve never even met, and then I think about you. I think about our nights together and I just want it so badly.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith said. “Maybe it would have been better if we hadn’t met.”

Lance turned to him. “Don’t say that.” Tentative, he reached for Keith, taking his opposite hand between their laps and pressing their shoulders together. “I don’t regret it. I felt so lonely here before I found you.”

Keith bit his lip, collapsing into Lance’s shoulder, wings wrapping them together. “I did too. I was so happy every time you decided to come back.”

Lance let his thumb come up to stroke Keith’s cheek, lifting to touch their foreheads together. “Whatever happens,” he breathed against Keith’s mouth. “I’ll find some way to come back.”

"You shouldn't make promises like that."

Noses brushing as if to ward off the cold, they slid together again. Lance ached for the feeling of Keith’s chapped lips grazing his, a painful pull deep in his chest. They went lightly. Lance’s arms snaked around Keith’s waist, tucked under his wings to stroke them carefully. Keith buried his fingers in the brown tufts of Lance’s hair, angling them better, twining their tongues as if they could weld themselves together like this.

“I’ll think of something,” Lance promised between kisses. He swore on every nibble he gave Keith’s bottom lip until it was swollen with his vows. Keith didn’t answer, just kept kissing him until it was nearly dawn.

 

…

 

Four days later, Lance still hadn’t come up with any ideas. The letter was still on his desk, unanswered. He knew another would come soon.

Keith came to visit again that night. The weather was starting to warm up, but he still refused to let Lance trudge through the woods. Lance secretly missed the manor, the privacy of it all. Still, it was fun to see Keith around other people. He seemed to get along very well with Pidge, patiently answering her questions and asking his own about how the world had progressed without him.

Keith sat with Lance on his bunk, holding his hand while they talked with Hunk and Pidge. They didn’t bother pretending to hide what was between them. When he would leave their dorm, Keith always kissed him at the window before he took off. He would retreat under the covers and do his best to not see the pitying looks his friends gave him.

Lance knew they were on borrowed time.

 

…

 

It was late. They sat together on Lance’s bed, alone in the room for once. “I think it will be warm enough next week,” Lance said, playing idly with Keith’s fingers. Keith hummed his agreement. “I’ve missed that mangy mutt of yours.” Keith gently shoved his elbow and Lance laughed, throwing himself dramatically across his sheets.

“You’re mean,” Keith chastised, crawling over to lay beside him, wings tucked carefully to fit.

“A little,” Lance admitted, turning on his side to face him completely. They tangled their legs together and Lance gently stroked Keith's ears. They passed a long few minutes in the quiet, just relaxing into one another and breathing slowly. “I’m still working on it,” Lance said.

“Lance, it’s alright. Whatever time we have, it’s enough. You can’t put me above your family. You love them.”

Lance squeezed his hand, pressing a kiss to his lilac knuckles. “But I love you too.”

Suddenly, the door slammed. Lance whirled around just in time to see Pidge’s notebook clatter to the floor as she fled. He heard her steps quickly dash down the hallway. He didn’t know what that meant.

 

…

 

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

Hunk shook his head and sighed, collapsing into his chair. “I don’t know. I just came up here between classes to grab a book I needed and they were pulling her luggage out of the room.”

Lance gulped, staring at the stripped bed, his legs feeling numb. “Do you think she got caught?”

“I don’t know, Lance. I hope not, but I don’t know. She’s just gone.”

“Shit.”

 

…

 

_My Dearest Son,_

_I grow anxious that I have not heard from you since my last letter. The school notified me that you had fallen ill. I hope you are better. If not, perhaps I should come see you._

_Do not trouble yourself too much with the wedding until you are well again. I have heard that these nasty fevers can linger for months, so make sure you eat enough._

_Please write to me soon._

_Love,_

_Mother_

 

_…_

 

Lance sent off his envelope the next day. His letter was sparse, apologizing for not writing sooner, and promising to keep studying. He avoided marriage talk. It would look suspicious, coming from him, not to include an extra three pages narrating some silly anecdotes, but he was too worried about Pidge to care.

Neither he nor Hunk had heard anything from or about her in the past week. It was February, Valentine’s Day this weekend, and all of Lance’s thoughts of love made him queasy with worry.

Keith seemed resigned, more than anything, and it made Lance mad on the bad days. He understood the reasoning, he did, but he couldn’t help but feel hurt all the same. More than anything, Lance felt trapped and useless. He couldn’t do anything to stay with Keith. He couldn’t do anything to help Pidge, wherever she was.

“McClain,” Iverson said, breaking him from his thoughts. Looking up from his desk in the back of the library, Lance was surprised to see discomfort on his Headmaster’s face. “Come with me.”

He gulped. “Yes, sir.” He quickly gathered his books and followed the man out into the corridor, trying to will himself to relax.

They came to the headmaster’s office, which was dominated by a stout mahogany desk. The door opened, and a thin man with a reedy beard and wired glasses stepped inside. “Hello,” he said, extending his hand for Lance to shake. Iverson left, the door swinging shut. At the bearded man’s gesture, Lance sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, waiting for whatever stroke fate had planned next for him. Maybe Pidge had been caught. Maybe he was about to be expelled.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Lance.”

“Thank you?”

The man chuckled and chose the seat next to Lance, not across the desk. There was something warm about him. “I’ve been told that you’re a dedicated young man brimming with compassion. And that you’ve fallen into a terrible dilemma.” He adjusted his glasses, and Lance had the strangest sense he’d seen the motion before. “I know we’ve never met, but I trust my daughter’s judgment.”

His jaw dropped. “You’re–?” Dr. Holt nodded kindly. “Then she’s not in trouble?”

“No, no of course not.” He leaned forward, hands clasping over his knees. “I suddenly received a letter from Katie –”

“–Her name’s Katie?”

“Yes. I suddenly received a letter from her detailing some rather remarkable circumstances. She also noted the kindness you and your friend Hunk showed her regarding her secret.” His brow quirked. “May I tell you something about her?”

Lance sat up straight. “Of course.”

“Katie doesn’t take to people very well. I’d feared she would never make friends. So I knew, when she proposed this idea to me, that she had met friends that were truly extraordinary.”

Lance gripped the fabric over his knees. “What...idea?”

Dr. Holt reached to clasp Lance on the shoulder, his hand a bit wrinkled, but gentle. “Katie has asked that I give you permission to marry her. And that I take her new husband as an apprentice in my home, along with a _certain companion_ that he might wish to bring.”

Lance stared, slack-jawed. “I–I…” He couldn’t find the words, so he flung himself at his new father-in-law to hug him instead.

 

…

 

The frost was long-since melted, and the fresh grasses and blooms of springtime brushed against their shoes as Lance led them through the familiar path to the manor. Dr. Holt was still a man of science and reason and insisted on meeting Keith before he let his daughter throw her studies away. “Although, to tell you the truth,” he said, “I’m not sure she hasn’t far outgrown this little school.”

“I’d believe it,” Lance answered, parting the branches to reveal the structure against the setting sun.  

Making their way inside, Lance heard that low growl and immediately smiled, crouching down to wait for him to appear. “Wolfy! Come here, boy. Be nice to Dr. Holt, here.” Wary of the new company, Keith’s furry friend emerged from around the corner and came to let Lance pet his head twice. He gave Dr. Holt a  cursory once-over and then turned back to lead them to the upstairs balcony.

“I’ve only seen him do this a couple of times now, so you’re in for a treat. He might be a bit disoriented though, so, um, stay back a little.” Keith was in his usual spot, perched on the balcony railing, looking out over the forest. The sun quickly gave way to the crescent moon, and before long the fissures in the stone began to crawl over him. Dr. Holt gasped behind Lance.

Standing with a growl, Keith shook off the stone fragments that clung to him. The aggressive movement turned into a long stretch and soft yawn that made Lance smile. “Good morning, sleepy.”

“Lance,” Keith said, hopping off the railing. “You’re here early.”

Lance couldn’t hold back his bright grin, a chuckle escaping him as he stepped into Keith and wrapped his arms around him. “There’s someone I want you to meet. I think he’s going to help us.”

Keith looked up, finally noticing Dr. Holt gaping in shock at him. He ran a hand through his beard, nearly catching his glasses. “I’ll be damned,” he wheezed.

 

…

 

_Dear Pidge,_

_I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what extraordinary thing it is I’ve done to deserve this, but it must have been an incredible act on my part. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you._

_Keith is excited, I can tell. I brought him a special tart to celebrate Valentine’s Day, and we spent the whole evening wondering what it will be like to live with your family on the Holt estate. I think he’s eager to leave that manor and all of the isolation it represents to him behind. Is it alright if he brings Wolfy?_

_Hunk sends his love. He was very worried about you when you vanished. We both were._

_I can hardly wait. You, me, and your father studying the stars together. Graduation can’t come fast enough._

_Love from your friend,_

_Lance McClain, Astronomer-to-be_

 

…

 

When Lance explained that the famous Dr. Holt has asked him to be his apprentice and that he has fallen in love with his daughter, Katie, his mother was ecstatic. She politely called off the engagement, and fawned over her son in her letters. It was as good an excuse as any for why he danced around the issue of Plaxum so much. He felt a little bad, lying to her like this, but maybe one day she’d know the truth, and for now, she was happy.

 

…

 

The grasses and flowers poked through the ground and tickled his ankles when Lance would walk through the warm air with a clean blanket in tow. He would spread it on the fresh grass under the balcony for him and Keith to lay on. Sometimes, it started to rain, and they would sprawl happily under the fresh drops, their clothes tossed aside. They listened to it pound away on the roof behind them, exchanging kisses, keening breaths, and fevered touch to the beat of the thunder.

Lance would return sopping wet with a high flush on his cheeks, maybe some new marks on his skin, and he had never been happier.

The rest of spring went quickly. Lance did well in his classes, fighting hard to truly earn his place as Dr. Holt’s apprentice.

Letters flew between him, Hunk, and Pidge. She was back at her family’s estate, studying with her brother non-stop. She described her home to Lance. He imagined the small vegetable garden, the sitting room with blue curtains that let the light in beautifully. He pictured Keith sitting on the balcony that would attach to his new bedroom, hearing him wake up every night. He could almost feel the weight of Dr. Holt’s telescope in his hands as he passed it off to Pidge, taking notes and mapping the far away points of light in the sky.

Before he knew it, the prickling summer heat had arrived.

Now he stood in his neatly packed up dorm room, ready to spend his last night at the Garrison. Hunk had left a few minutes ago with a knowing wink, making fun of how pink Lance’s ears turned.

Sure enough, Keith tapped on the glass not even fifteen minutes past sundown. As usual, he folded his wings around his shoulders to fit them inside, and let his eyes rove over the empty space. “Huh,” he said, coming to stand by Lance. “It’s really happening, isn’t it?”

Lance smirked and tossed Keith his most dashing and cavalier wink. “Yeah. Do you have the map Dr. Holt gave you?” Keith nodded, pulling it from his belt to show Lance. He would fly after Lance to the estate. “I told you I’d work it out, didn’t I?”

Keith crossed his arms. “It sounds to me like Pidge did all the work.”

“I had a plan!”

“Enlighten me.”

Lance scoffed and stepped into Keith’s space. “Well, I thought about running away with you.” His voice dropped to a low whisper, hands skimming up Keith’s lilac arms. “We could fix up the manor, or go somewhere else.”

“Oh, really?” Keith hummed, a gentle smirk pulling at the corner of his lip. They both knew it wasn't entirely true, that Lance could never truly leave his family, but Keith played along regardless. 

“Mmhmm.” He let his fingers run up Keith’s neck to weave into his hair, gently teasing out the tangles. “We could go absolutely anywhere we wanted. Well, maybe not a large city. Or a small one.” Keith chuckled. “But anywhere else.” Their noses scraped past each other as Lance eased their foreheads together. “Maybe a nice cottage out somewhere with Wolfy.”

“That’s not his name.” Lance gave him a cheeky grin and Keith let his wings unfurl carefully. This had turned into one of Lance’s favorite parts, when Keith sealed them away from the whole universe. Their hands found their favorite perches – shoulder, neck, waist, hair, back – and Lance closed his eyes as they leaned in. “Besides,” Keith said softly, “I like how this turned out fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, please check out [214b's artwork and tumblr page!](http://214b.tumblr.com/post/177106738941/you-touch-me-like-an-angel-but-you-kiss-me-like-a)
> 
> Thanks for reading, kudos, comments, etc.!
> 
> P and M


End file.
